Disclaimer: Don't own them, don't have anything to do with them. Seriously, do y'all think that I'd be writing things like this if I did, by some miracle, know either of them? Okay, now on to what you're here for...
I've been going to Starbucks every morning for about two weeks now. Some days I don't even want to, but I go anyway. Sometimes Phil comes with me; he said he'd kill me if I didn't let him sleep in today, though. So, here I am, sitting alone at a table sipping my latte, waiting for the reason I'm even here. Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you about her. I don't know her name, but I know her face. She comes in every morning around the same time, orders the same drink, and heads back out the door; except on Saturday when she comes in with her computer for a danish and a coffee. She'll sit down, turn on her laptop, and tap away at the keys with this really focused look on her face. She doesn't come on Sunday. Yeah, I've been doing this long enough to know these things. I'm actually starting to feel like a stalker. Way to go, self.
Anyway, I don't know why I bother doing this. She never notices me and I'm almost afraid to go say hello. Besides, what am I supposed to say? "Hi, my name is Dan and I've been coming here every morning just to catch a brief glimpse of you." Yeah, that'd go over really well. At least I didn't let it go any farther than going to Starbucks at eight in the morning. It occurs to me that this girl could be just that, a girl; not legal, just really mature looking. If that was true, this would be the biggest blunder of my life. God, would that be embarrassing. I would actually hate myself a little for that (mostly because I've had some particularly sexual thoughts about her). Sometimes my life is so complicated. That's sarcasm, for those of you who can't tell.
The clock struck eight, and, just like every other day, she came through the door with her black camera bag hanging off her shoulder. I've never seen her camera, but from the size of the bag I'd say it was a pretty fucking good one. I wonder what she does that requires such a nice camera. Today she's wearing jeans and a t-shirt like she normally does. I don't think she dresses up unless she has to. Her lips are deep red and very kissable looking. I actually can't help but imagine her lips against mine, trailing soft kisses down my body to wrap around my- Okay, time for me to stop imagining what her pouty lips could do before I embarrass myself. She's having a laugh with the barista as she orders, which isn't uncommon for her. She's incredibly friendly with everyone she meets.
I watch her scroll through something on her phone as she waits for her order. I wish Phil had gotten up and come with me so he could kick my ass into going over to say hello. He thinks I'm a bit pathetic for what he calls "admiring her from afar," but he knows how I am with girls. I know I'll say something stupid that'll scare her off. Most girls think my normal behavior is weird and end up leaving anyway. I know she's too good for me, but a guy can dream, right? In the midst of my thoughts the barista calls out her name. I, being the boob that I am, didn't catch it. She picked it up and thanked her friend the barista, and then headed out the door again. She must have noticed me looking at her because she gave me a smile on her way out. Not one of those "oh my god, some weirdo is staring at me" smiles either, a genuine smile. That's when I made up my mind. Tomorrow morning I will introduce myself to her...and try not to bring up the creepering I've been doing.
o.O.o.O.o
Boy, is Phil irritated with me. I dragged him out of bed at seven and made him come with me, and he is now glaring at me from across the table. Thank goodness today's Saturday. After we're done here we can go home and Phil can have a nap before his live-show later this evening. For now, he can sit there and glare at me while he sips his coffee. I look down at my watch; she should be here any minute.
I look over at Phil, who is staring out the window and probably wishing he was somewhere else. I was a little sorry I brought him. Not because of the way he was acting, but because he was obviously tired.
Just as I opened my mouth to tell him to go home, she walked in the door with a laptop bag slung over her shoulder. Today she was wearing a brown hoodie with the word "Philadelphia" written on it in pink block letters and black jeans. I hadn't thought she was American, but now I wondered if she was... Not that there would be a problem if she is, I'm just curious. Her makeup is very light today, but that's probably because she doesn't have to work. Phil must have noticed me staring past his head because now he's turned around in his chair looking at her. He turned back around for a sip of coffee and gave me a look. I knew what he meant by it.
I waited a few minutes before I even thought about going over to where she had chosen to sit. She was happily munching on her danish as she booted up her laptop and put a USB stick into one of the ports. I looked over at Phil who jerked his head in her direction. He may have been annoyed at me for dragging him out of bed so early, but he was still my best friend and he wasn't going to let me wuss out. I make myself stand up, straightened my shirt and pulled my jeans up (not that it did any good), and drained the last of my coffee. Not going to lie, I'm scared. There are a million things running through my head that I want to say, but I probably shouldn't start off with any of them. I try to appear confident as I walk over to her, but I'm not sure I nailed the "confident" look. She doesn't look up at me when I stop next to her. I audibly clear my throat, exaggerating a little. She looks up at me, curiosity lining her face, but not touching her soft smile.
"Uh...hi. I'm Dan."